Primetime
by Candyland'sVirtue
Summary: "this is the final, you are the failing. this is the retro, you are the out of style. this is the grinding, you are the decay. this is the funeral, you are the casket." Unrequited Davekat; Will possibly be continued.


**Hi. This story includes a lot of triggers, which I feel like I should probably post, so that Kankri isn't up my ass.**

**It includes horrible profanity (written by yours truly,) but you should be used to that if you read the actual comic. It also includes self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and mentions of abuse. If these kind of things don't settle well with you, please refrain from reading. **

**This story takes place after the game was won, and everyone (magically) made it out alive. Dirk also teams up with Equis to make a machine to portal the two worlds together, but you'll read about that in the story. **

**Karkat's pesters will be bolded, so that you can tell a difference between him and Dave. **

**Enjoy, I guess~**

[S] DAVE: REREAD PESTERLOGS

Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you are currently REREADING your chatting history with A RATHER HOT-HEADED TROLL.

It wasn't exactly the most pleasant conversation; but you suppose it was only for the best that it went down how it did. You would have preferred a more positive response, but there's not enough time in the world for you to go back and fix it.

You bite into your knuckle as you scroll up to the beginning of your conversation, and take a shaky breath when it you find yourself directly quoting it all in a whisper.

_turntechGodhead_**[TG]**began pestering _carcinoGenicist_**[CG]**

TG: sup karkles

**CG: WHAT IN GOGS NAME COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT STRIDER?**

TG: dude chill I didn't even ask anything yet

**CG: OH, YOU HAVE A QUESTION. I'M JUST QUAKING IN ANTICIPATION TO ANSWER YOUR SHITTY IRONIC ASS SELF.**

TG: oh great then

TG: i need a favor

**CG: ****WHAT? NO! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO ANYTHING FOR YOU?**

TT: because it's important

**CG:****AND OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU COULD POSSIBLY BOTHER WITH THIS OH SO IMPORTANT TASK, YOU CHOOSE ME. **

TG: well you're kinda the only one that can

TG: seriously bro I fucked up

**CG:****HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE FUCKED UP SO BAD AS TO REQUIRE MY ASSISTANCE, AND MINE ALONE? **

TG: ill tell you later

TG: just do this first okay

**CG: UGH FINE.**

**CG: WHAT'S THE FAVOR?**

TG: so like youre pretty creative right

**CG: DAMN STRAIGHT.**

TG: and you enjoy insulting people

**CG: GET TO THE FUCKING POINT.**

TG: i need to insult me

TG: make me feel like a piece of shit

**CG: IS THIS SOME KIND OF KINKY SHIT YOU'RE INTO?**

**CG: BECAUSE IF IT IS THEN FUCK THAT.**

TG: no man its not that

TG: its a long story ill tell you later

**CG: NO, I WANT TO KNOW NOW. I HONESTLY DON'T SEE THE FUCKING POINT IN ALL OF THIS.**

TG: nope creative insults first backstory later

**CG: WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I EVEN DO THIS FOR YOU?**

TG: dude this should be like a heaven for you

**CG: NORMALLY IT WOULD BE.**

**CG: BUT THE FACT THAT YOU'D BE TAKING PLEASURE FROM IT JUST MAKES IT FUCKING POINTLESS. LIKE, HOW THE FUCK IS THIS EVEN GOING TO ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING?**

TG: oh no im not taking pleasure from this

TG: if it means anything ill probably feel a little hurt from them

**CG: THEN WHY THE BITCHSHITTING DICKWAD AM I DOING THIS?**

TG: i told you

TG: creative insults first

TG: super longass backstory later

**CG: THIS BETTER HAVE A FUCKING POINT, OR I'M GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU SHAMESHITTING NOOKSMOKER.**

TG: warming up i see

TG: nice

TG: and it most definitely has a purpose

**CG: FINE THEN. DAVE STRIDER.**

TG: yes kitkat

**CG: YOU ARE THE MOST WORTHLESS BULGEHUMPING ASSDICK IN ALL OF PARADOX SPACE.**

TG: ouch

TG: continue

**CG: YOUR TEAM DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING NEED YOU AROUND, YOU WERE THAT FUCKING USELESS. HARLEY EVEN DID MORE THAN YOU, AND SHE WAS THE ONE THAT FUCKED UP IN THE FIRST PLACE.**

**CG:****YOU ARE BY FAR THE MOST REPULSIVE ASSGRABBING DOUCHEBAG I HAVE EVER HAD THE UNFORTUNE OF MEETING. YOU AND YOUR COCKY ASS LITTLE ATTITUDE IS SHIT. YOU AREN'T COOL. YOU'RE JUST AN IDIOTIC BULGELICKING DIMFUCK WHO CAN'T EVEN PROTECT HIS DAMN LUSUS.**

**CG: EVEN JOHN IS MORE TOLERABLE THAN YOU. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU ASKED ME TO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT WHEN YOU OBVIOUSLY ALREADY ARE. **

**CG: ACTUALLY, YOU'RE LOWER THAN SHIT. YOU'RE A DUMB PILE OF FUMING IMBECILIC WASTE OF TIME. YOUR GODTIER WENT TO FUCKING WASTE. JUST LIKE YOUR BRO'S LIFE DID, WHEN HE DIED. FOR A FUCKWHIFFING SHIT-FOR-BRAINS LIKE YOU.**

**CG: CAN I STOP NOW?**

TG: no bro its not working

**CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT WORKING?**

**CG: WHAT THE FUCK ISN'T WORKING HERE?**

TG: the problem

TG: its still there

TG: jesus christ

TG: im crying and everything

TG: why isnt it working

**CG: ****UH…OKAY NOW I'M ****A BIT CONCERNED.**

TG: keep insulting me dude

**CG: NO!**

TG: why the fuck not

**CG: BECAUSE YOU AREN'T BEING AS MUCH OF A DOUCHEBAG AS YOU USUALLY ARE!**

**CG: AND IT'S SCARING ME!**

TG: no no dude you dont understand

TG: i need this okay

TG: if your insults dont fix this

TG: then im never going to be that douchebag again

**CG: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK 'THIS' IS!**

**CG: JUST FUCKING TELL ME SO I CAN HELP YOU, DAMMIT!**

TG: but dude i cant

**CG: YOU CAN, STRIDER. THERE IS NOTHING PHYSICALLY HOLDING YOU BACK FROM TELLING ME.**

TG: youll hate me

TG: i already hate me

TG: im scared

**CG: DAVE, COME ON. WE'RE BROS, REMEMBER? I'M NOT GOING TO HATE YOU BECAUSE OF SOME STUPIDASS FUCKUP. SERIOUSLY, HAVE A LITTLE FUCKING FAITH IN ME. I'M NOT THAT MUCH OF A DOUCHEBAG.**

TG: ive developed an affection for you

**CG: UH…WHAT?**

TG: whenever we talk i get dubstep butterflies in my stomach

TG: like i want to cuddle you all the fucking time

TG: youre just so goddamn cute

TG: it makes me feel sick thinking about you with someone else

**CG: UM….**

TG: and it scares me

TG: because the only other person i cared about this much was my bro

TG: and we both know how that went down

**CG: DAVE…I..**

You close your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. Tears rolled down your cheeks, surpassing the mask you've held for so long behind your shades. You remember this moment in the conversation like it was yesterday. It was actually three weeks ago, but after rereading it so many times who could forget?

You remember the glimmer of hope you had when you confessed. After years of telling yourself how disgustingly revolting your little crush was, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he would return your feelings.

You were so naïve; it makes you want to be sick.

Your life is no fairy tale; you've been reminded that time and time again. And yet hope always seems to squeeze its way into you, telling you that everything will be okay and to hold your head up and—

And prepare yourself. Because no matter what you do, you're always going to fail.

It's pathetic, and almost a bit overly dramatic, but true. You, Dave Strider are a failure. You're a failure to your Bro, to your friends, and to yourself. Obviously to Karkat too; you can't even fucking hold a friendship with the guy. You don't even need to scroll down to remember what he said to you…The same words that have prevented the two of you from conversing for weeks.

You aren't sure when you started sobbing, but they seem to fall out of your mouth as your head hits your computer desk, and you're completely washed away by your emotions.

This isn't supposed to happen.

Striders aren't supposed to show emotion. Hell, the only emotions Striders are supposed to have are pride and victory. Is victory an emotion? To Bro, it was. To Dirk too, you would assume. But you? You don't have time for pride of victory. You're too washed up in your depression to keep up your self-confidence.

You don't exactly know when it started, this depression. Maybe around when you turned thirteen, you realized that you didn't really have someone to go to when you had a problem. You couldn't possibly go to your friends, it'd cost you your act. Your bro would only scold you for being overly sensitive.

Then came along Sburb, and with it, the voices.

Being a Knight of Time seemed pretty hella fun at first. You pretty much did whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Sure there were downsides, like other yous eating your Doritos, but you learned how to deal with that. When few started dying off, you weren't too concerned. But sometimes…You felt like you could hear their screams, their emotions. You played it off as your imagination, until all of your clones were defeated.

You felt all of them, all of them at once. You felt their fear, their pain.

You felt their misery.

You never did find out why you were depressed. It's not like it was an all-day thing, sure you'd find something to distract yourself every once in a while. But when it came, it came randomly with no warning. And often times, you found yourself hardly able to escape.

You found your escape through unspeakable measures.

It was an accident, really. It occurred on the meteor, and you remember it very well. The days of attempting to converse with your fellow travelers were far over, and none had seemed to notice the overwhelming sadness that seemed to drip out of you.

You were hungry as fuck, so logically you began cutting up lettuce. Enough Doritos, you need to stay fit for the new session. Unfortunately, your fingers didn't share the same opinion. The knife came down slightly harsh on your left hand – you still have the scar – and for a moment, the voices in your head went away. The emptiness that filled you slowly started to fill up with displeasure, but you found it all the more welcome. Of course, the sight of blood did make you a bit dizzy, but it was pleasurable nonetheless, and you knew right then and there you had found your escape.

It wasn't long until you became addicted.

You found the codes for razors and knives, and managed to hide them very well. Not that anyone cared enough to check, anyways.

Soon enough, you had cuts all the way up your arms, and across your thighs. You had taken to recutting open old scars, which seemed to heal almost twice as fast seeing as you were a god tier.

They faded too quickly. You didn't like it.

That's why when you beat the game and returned home to earth, you found yourself almost passing out from blood loss.

You always wear a hoodie, and you refuse to unzip it. You make sure nobody can see you, that you can keep your composure around them. And it works, it really does. It allows you to be stoic and appear emotionless. Honestly, you think you might be losing your emotions. Which is great, considering you're a Strider and that's what Striders do.

The only problem is, you've contemplated suicide.

You're not a godtier anymore, you're back to being a human. You could die anytime, and you doubt that anyone would care.

You see no future for yourself. When the game was one, your Bro didn't come back. Dirk did, but he's not the same. Karkat was the only one you'd seen as a potential romantic partner for a long time. This was no fairytale, and you certainly aren't a goddamn princess. You aren't waiting for your knight in shining armor, and you aren't going to be anybody else's knight. You doubt they'd want you anyways, you're a useless sack of shit.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you have no idea when your self-confidence became an act.

You've quieted yourself down, and by doing so you can hear the laughter emitting from downstairs.

Oh, right. They were eating dinner.

And by they, you mean everyone.

After awhile of situating living arrangements (John lived with Jane, and Rose with Roxy, while Jade and Jake took up living with you and Dirk since the apartment was huge and the two alphas had regained their relationship,) Dirk began working on a machine to connect Alternia to Earth. With a little help on the other side, they managed to do so, and (most) of the trolls you've come to hate (and begrudgingly adore) crossed over to your world.

They are now sitting in the dining room, eating dinner with your "friends."

They didn't invite you.

Nobody seemed to talk to you anymore, and that was perfectly okay with you. You locked yourself up in your room, occasionally leaving to go to the bathroom, and grabbing more food to stock up in your closet. Dirk checked up on you a few times, but it was mostly awkward confrontations. You were brothers, but you weren't. You supposed you'd get used to each other eventually, but eventually seemed a hella far away. And—Oh.

When…When did that get there?

There's a razor in your skin, and there's a mini blood puddle on your desk. You can't count the scratches littering your arm, or how deep you've cut. Everything is numb, and your head begins to spin.

Fuck, not again.

You hurriedly get up, making your way to your closet for an energy drink. You needed sugar, something to replace the missing iron in yo—

You didn't realize that you slipped until your face was inches against the ground. You also have no idea what you slipped on – although later you would find it to be one of your old stupid mix CD's—though that's hardly important to you because your face is now planted into the carpet and oh my god what the fuck was that soun—

You broke.

Honestly, you've always liked to wonder what stopped you from just giving up your act. Showing people that youre just a useless sack of shit with a shitty personality. You like to tell yourself that it's because you're a Strider, but you hardly feel attached to that notion anymore. So what exactly was holding you down, and preventing you from flying away?

Your mask. The one that hides the ugliest part of you—the one that had little girls screaming at the sight of you in kindergarten, teachers scowling at you and declaring you a devil spawn. The mask that hid your tears when you would accidentally cry in public.

You stare with wide eyes at your "mask" which have snapped in half on the floor in front of you.

Your shades are broken.

And so are you.

You stood up numbly, your eyes never leaving the reflective parts of your former glasses, forgetting all about your bloody arm that has begun to soak into the carpet. You have nothing protecting you. There's nothing to hide you from the world now. Nothing to shield away the blood that runs down your arms when you meet your escape, or bring back bitter memories of a time when John and you were actually close friends.

The last part of you that was pretending that he was okay…lay broken on the floor.

And suddenly, you feel like you can fly.

You don't know when or why you started to scream; maybe it was a late reaction to your battered shades. Maybe it was a victory call, or something of an emotion releaser.

All you do know is that you've warned the others, and you'll have to be quick.

Perhaps it'll be better with an audience.

You dart to the roof, speeding up the stairs faster than you ever thought you could. You slowed down your pace, gradually walking over to the ledge. You can hear them downstairs, but that hardly matters to you now. You look down below, and you see the same busy street from your childhood strifes with your Bro.

And suddenly, you never felt more at home.

You're not aware that you're still crying, nor are you aware of the approaching footsteps banging harshly on the roof stairway.

You stretch out your arms, and close your eyes. You never really had a religion, but you selfishly hope that whatever lies in afterlife is a hell lot better than the life you've lived here. No matter what it is, you'll get to see your bro again. And that's a hell lot more than you could ever want.

You try to move forward, but you're frozen. You can't move. Pathetically, you can't even commit suicide with a little help.

You call on the voices.

They come in strong hoards, screaming and whispering, threatening and singing, but it isn't enough. You need more. And suddenly, the perfect thing comes to mind.

**CG: DAVE…I…**

**CG: …YOU KNOW WHAT? NO.**

**CG: FUCK YOU.**

**CG: THIS IS NOT A THING. WE ARE NOT DOING THIS.**

**CG: FUCK YOU DAVE STRIDER.**

**CG: FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID ASS EARTH FEELINGS.**

**CG: DON'T EVEN FUCKING TALK TO ME, YOU SHITSPEWING ASSCLOWN.**

**CG: EVER.**

**CG: DON'T CALL ME BRO; DON'T HIT ME UP FOR ANYMORE FUCKING RETARDED ARE A FUCKING ASSHOLE, YOU HEAR ME?**

**CG: UGH. IF I EVER SEE YOU, I'M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU.**

**CG: DON'T TALK TO ME. **

carcinoGenecist **[CG] **_has ceased pestering _turntechGodhead **[TG]**

It's the final push.

Suddenly, you're falling. The exhilaration that fills you is breathtaking, and you find yourself laughing bitterly to yourself.

You've only very rarely fallen, but when you do, you fall _hard._

And as the sidewalk becomes closer and closer, you can't help but feel a little disappointment.

This was _nothing_ compared to how hard you fell the last time. When you fell _for him. _ _-_ **That's chapter one. Yup. No idea when chapter two will be up. If there even is a chapter two. Let me know if you like it, please~ **


End file.
